A complete parenting FAIL!

It's no secret that I'm having a tough time. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm defeated.  I react poorly to most situations and it just make it worse.  Sophie is now 3 years old and 1 month.  She has recently discovered that she doesn't HAVE to do what I ask her to do.  She is enjoying this new-found freedom, but becoming defiant in the process.  This is a very bad time for her to push my buttons and argue back and I'm clearly handling it poorly.

This morning, we were getting ready for the Waldorf Parent & Tot Program.  Sophie eats SUPER slow and we were already late.  The first meltdown was because I was using the wrong hairbrush to brush her hair - I'm talking instant screaming and tears.  I hugged her and explained that the old brush was when she was a baby, but now she has more hair and requires a bigger brush. She calmed down very quickly.  I walked her to the door and asked her to put her shoes on, while I ran to grab my cell phone, water, jackets, etc.  I came back to the stairs and Sophie was still sitting there, staring at her shoes.  By this point, I had asked her about ten times to put those shoes on and I was starting to get frustrated.  I asked her again to put on her shoes and I grabbed her jacket.  I put her one sleeve on and asked her to put her other sleeve on while I went to grab the car keys. When I returned, her shoes were still NOT on her feet and she had taken off her coat.  My blood pressure was rising.  I yelled at her, asking why she had taken her coat off and she started screaming that she needed her Kitty and Puppy, two stuffed animals that she takes everywhere.  I explained that we were really late and we had to leave, suggesting that she take her Dolly, who was on the coffee table.  Unfortunately, this would not do as she started screaming and throwing a tantrum as I tried to put her shoes on and her coat.  I felt hot, I felt mad and all I wanted to do was get her in the car and leave.  I grabbed her and marched her upstairs to get her Kitty and Puppy, while she screamed and was throwing herself on the floor.  We got her 'pets' and finally got her buckled into the car seat.  I was mad - mad at her, but more mad at myself for allowing myself to throw my own version of a tantrum by losing my temper and yelling at her.  I can only imagine how scary I must have looked to my tiny 3 year old and then of course I couldn't help but think that of course we weren't blessed with another child, when I can't always handle the one I have!

Sophie was quiet in the car for the first time ever!  I tried to explain to her why mommy was getting upset. A few days prior we had made a deal that mommy would yell less if Sophie would listen more, but we both failed today.  By the time we were half way there, she was her old chatty self, while I was still trying to navigate the morning roads and avoid an accident as I rushed to get us there.  Once at Waldorf, I apologized for yelling at her and she gave me a huge hug.  I begged her to listen to mommy and the teacher during the class and she readily agreed with a hearty "I promise Mommy!" - sadly, I've heard this before and I believe that she doesn't actually understand what a promise is.

The rest of the morning was peppered with little instances of not listening and doing her own thing. Sophie would decide to open the classroom door and run down the hall on her own, even after I repeatedly told her to never leave the classroom without mommy. On the playground, my pleas that she not throw sand went unheeded again. I explained that not only could she hit someone with the sand, but she will also be dirty from head to toe, especially since last week she was very upset to have sand in her shoes - but that was ignored. I had to ask her many times to follow me to the car and in the end I had to walk her by the hand.  Because of my chronic pain issues, I have a small stool in the car that she uses to get herself into the carseat so that I don't have to lift her. I took the stool out and set it up beside the door so she could sit down while I cleaned her shoes.  Again, I tried to explain to her in a very calm manner why I had wanted her not to throw sand and she suddenly screamed at me "No Mommy", while trying to purse my lips to quiet me down.  I felt my blood pressure boil as I calmly told her that we were no longer going to see daddy or to the store and that instead we were going straight home for lunch and nap.  

We went down for a nap after lunch, while I prayed that we both woke up in a better mood.  I knew that God didn't want me to behave this way, I knew that it was some other force who thrived on my misery, my self doubt, my anger and frustration and so I prayed for strength...

Sophie woke up all happy and jovial. We went to the bathroom to go potty and I asked her to get dressed, but she wanted to run around and kept ignoring me.  I asked her if she had heard me ask her to get dressed and she said "No", even though I knew she had heard me.  I told her that we needed to get dressed and she screamed at me "NO MOMMY, WE DON'T" and immediately slapped me in the face.  I was stunned - she had never done this before. I reacted without thinking and told her that she is never to yell at mommy and then I slapped her hand because her hand was being bad.  Yes, I fully realize that the logic there is faulty, telling a 3 year old not to hit while slapping her hand - but in the moment, all the Attachment Parenting/RIE tools that I had went out the window.  Of course the rest of the night was full of more of these type of issues - dumping bird seed all over the garage floor, throwing her pogo dog on the floor at dinner time, etc.

I have to keep telling myself that this IS to be expected. She is a child, she is three. I am an adult, who is going through a heck of a lot right now and who temporarily can't get a hold of her emotions.  I know that reasoning or explaining these concepts to her isn't working as she doesn't understand, so I think we will simply need to remove her from situations [like going straight home today] or take away items until she grasps the concept of consequences. As for me, I've talked to Freddie and we both agree that she is exercising her freedom and trying to get things her way and that it will be difficult for the next little while.  But I know that it will pass - I remember similar issues after we lost Asia, where my personal reaction was totally inappropriate.  Luckily, its the weekend and I'll have Freddie's support for the next two days so perhaps we can tag team her a little bit and I can try to deal with my emotions.

I've felt like a crap parent all day.  I know I behaved poorly.  Today, I doubted my abilities to parent Sophie properly - and it wasn't the first time. I was worried how I'll be able to handle future tantrums and if I can raise her to be a good person.  Today, I felt the stares of other parents as I struggled with a toddler who wouldn't listen, but most of all, I struggled with myself.  Clearly, not one of my finer parenting moments :-(

POST IDEAS

-when to stop having kids
-how will all these losses affect Sophie? Pressure to be perfect?
-not feeling heard and prayer

When it happens again...and again...

When we lost Sammy in August of 2010, I thought my life was over.  I knew that I would never be the same.  I was angry at everyone and everything, I was in disbelief as I slowly worked my way through all the stages of grief. I think that what helped the most, was another pregnancy 10 months later.  The prospect of a second child, another chance at a family gave me hope - although I should point out that my pregnancy was fraught with worry and fear, but I kept telling myself that lightning wouldn't strike twice.

By the time we were trying for our third baby, our only living daughter Sophie was 18 months and life seemed to finally be falling into place.  It took us 3 cycles to get pregnant and this time, I was confident that all would be fine, after all I had already been the 'one in four'.  When we learned that our third child, Asia, had two fatal diagnoses, my world fell apart...again.  My days were filled with prayer, pleading and begging that the diagnoses were wrong.  As the pregnancy progressed, I felt lulled in a blanket of hope that Asia would be born at term and we'd spend some time with her, take photos, hand moulds, etc. Her arrival was a whirlwind, unexpected, sudden and fast...and none of my plans came to fruition.  After her death, I fell into my grief as the anger and rage returned.  I was angry at the guy that cut me off on the road, at the deli lady because she didn't ask how I wanted my meat sliced, at the gas attendant for smiling and wishing me a good day.  I remember going grocery shopping for the first time and watching everyone else go about their business as if nothing had happened, when all I wanted to do was scream that I had just buried a second child.

By the time Asia died, both my husband and I were approaching 40.  Due to Asia's genetic issues, we were both tested [we're not carriers] but the geneticist also reviewed the statistics of genetic issues related to maternal age and the numbers increased.  Of course it depends on how you look at it - a 1 in 55 odds seems like a lot, but when converted to a 1.8% chance it doesn't seem so bad.  So one birth in 55 will have a genetic issue, but as my husband reminded me, it also means that 54 births will be just fine.  At what point were we comfortable with the numbers?  For us, we felt that we just didn't want to risk a genetic issue and would stop actively trying for a baby so that I would not be delivering past the age of 42.  For us, a maternal age of 42 was starting to get risky with genetic issues rising and that was our stopping point. We knew we had to decide this in advance because when you want a child so desperately, its easy to keep saying 'just one more month'.

Since we didn't have a lot of time, I shoved my grief aside and we dove back into trying for a sibling for Sophie. We were thrilled when within a short time frame, we were pregnant again. My numbers were low, but it was early and I BELIEVED that this heart-wrenching loss would NOT happen again ... but it did.  We suffered a chemical pregnancy.  I was lost. I was angry. I was spent. But it wasn't the first or the last. Our chemical pregnancy was followed by five more, month after month after month.  By the time the second positive test showed up, my hope and resilient belief that this baby would live began to wane, and that hope and glimmer of a future as a family of 4 was getting fainter and fainter.  By the time we were going through our 6th chemical pregnancy, I had come to expect a loss.  A positive pregnancy test was met with fear and anxiety and waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. It was getting harder and harder to grieve, not only because I had a 2 year old that required attention during the day, but also because I think my brain was trying to protect my heart.  I would go through the motions of the day and focus on Sophie, but when the house was quiet my heart would bleed for every little soul who was a transient visitor in our lives.  I spent many nights weeping for the futures that these children would never have.  At least with Asia, we had the chance to see her, hold her, kiss her and spend time with her, but these 6 little angels left no tangible proof of their existence - no ultrasound, no photos.  I would climb into bed in the middle of the night while holding Asia's ashes wrapped in a baby blanket and I would fall asleep crying, trying not to wake Sophie and my sleeping husband.

Our TTC journey continued with no success for several months.  My feeling were all over the map - hope and fear all intermingled, a thousand 'what if's' running through my mind.  Finally, last month, we saw another positive test and again all was going well...until it wasn't.  I was 7.5 weeks pregnant when I started miscarrying our 10th child [our 9th loss].  The anger and frustration returned with a vengeance and is still here today. I'm at a loss as to what to say, how to feel...

How could this happen to us over and over and over and over again?  Had we not fulfilled every statistical requirement?  Why do we keep 'winning' this lottery?  Perhaps we should just stop trying...but then I remember how thrilled we were to hear the news of a baby finally joining our family and that restores an inkling of hope.  But the sadness and grief is all consuming.  I go through the motions of each day, trying to keep it together, but the tears are there, right under the surface.  I feel extremely sad and frustrated and ... defeated.  We have a few more months left in our journey and I don't know if I have the energy or stamina to keep going.  I feel like my world is crumbling - death after death after death. I'm so pessimistic that even when something good happens, I freely admit that I wait knowingly until something bad happens.  I've been robbed of the naïveté of a worry free pregnancy or a worry free birth.  I see someone I know announce a pregnancy and I hear a voice in my head saying 'Don't be so sure...bad things happen all the time'.  I feel like the downer, the pessimist who can't be happy for someone else.  It's like a dark cloud hanging over my head right now.  And this sadness and depression has spilled over to other areas of my life.  I feel lost as to what my purpose is - its clear what my purpose is NOT.  I'm not a good mother to Sophie right now as my grief and anger blind me, complicated by her defiant spirit at 3 years old.  Due to no support on our previous losses, we haven't mentioned to anyone what we are going through and that in itself is very isolating and lonely.  I feel like a hermit living in a vibrant and social place - yet still alone, isolated and lonely.

I don't know how to pick up all these pieces.  I don't know how to move forward, how to walk away from that place of grief where I am now.  I don't know if I can bear one more BBQ or dinner where I smile and pretend it's all ok.  How many more times will we go through this? Will we ever have a baby join our family? Will Sophie ever have a sibling??  How am I supposed to go on and LIVE, when 9/10 of our babies DIED?  And 9/10 or 90% rate of death is a crazy high number, no matter how you look at it!

What we all want: Acceptance

A few nights ago, my husband and I sat down to watch Diane Sawyer's interview with Bruce Jenner.  My heart broke for this man who had gone through so much in his life, who seemingly had 'everything' but felt like a liar all this time.  On the surface, Mr. Jenner's life seems perfect: a big family [6 biological children from 3 marriages and 4 stepchildren], a gorgeous home in Malibu, fame, fortune, time to enjoy his hobbies...what more could one want?  But all that couldn't make up for the lack of authenticity in his life - wanting to be accepted for who he is, loved for what's on the inside and to be hopefully understood and not judged.  As I watched the interview, so much of this resonated with me.  After all, I also want to be understood, not judged, accepted and loved.

I want my friends and family to at least make an effort to understand my 'new normal', to ask how we are doing without our babies, to mention their names. Sadly, people avoid us, as if somehow the death of a child was contagious. Perhaps, I don't blame them. It must be very difficult and sobering to have to think, even if for a moment, about what it might feel like to lose a child.  That pain is so intense that even thinking about it paralyzes you - so perhaps our friends and family simply avoid the topic altogether.  But in order for my husband and I to be understood, they have to delve into this uncomfortable and painful place, they have to consider that some of our actions and decisions are deeply affected by the sense of pain and loss that we deal with on a daily basis, that some of the things they say or infer are very hurtful and inappropriate when examined in the context of this pain and loss.

I don't want to be judged - I guess that goes hand in hand with being understood.  They think I don't notice the way their brows furrow when I respond a little harshly or loose my temper faster than always - but they are not dealing with this uncontrollable sense of anger, this beast that lives inside and feeds on the unfairness of my circumstance.  They hide their sense of confusion when I call my angels by name because they forget who they are.  But the most hurtful are the overt ones - the friend who emails to tell you that you should appreciate what you have because she 'would give a limb for a mother, husband OR little girl of my own that loved me' and that 'holding onto that initial grief isn't right'.  I hear the former all the time - that Sophie, our only living child is such a blessing and that we should be grateful, as if we didn't appreciate her and thank God each night for having her in our lives.  Then there is the latter, the constant requirement that I need to move on, yet the 'friend' telling me this has a tribute page to her deceased father where she posts often, keeping his memory alive.  I think that is very sweet but I fail to understand why that is acceptable, but by mentioning my children, my grief is 'initial' [whatever that means] and 'not right'. Its because of this judging that we have stopped sharing our losses, or even the fact that we are trying for that matter. The judging is what hurts the most and it usually from people who seemed to understand, so maybe that is why it hurts so much.

I want to be loved.  It seems like such a simple statement and it is.  Having gone through so many losses, we have learned the hard way who truly loves us - and its not as many people as you'd think.  It's not hard to find people to surround yourself with when times are good - we've had a houseful of 'friends' for Christmas parties, BBQ's etc.  They would be crammed in like sardines and were happy to socialize in our home, eat our food and drink our booze... but when times got tough and we reached out asking for help, the love and support that we so desperately needed just wasn't there.  Some never replied, some made excuses - while my heart kept hurting.  There were a handful of people, those that we least expected, that were there and those are the friends we cherish.  I so appreciate their love and support, because outside of that handful, our phone has gone silent.  I just want to feel like I am important to our friends, like we matter and that these losses that we have endured have made a difference in their lives as well.

Acceptance - isn't that what we all want?  Isn't that the culmination of the above three?  I want people to accept me, the entire package, the good, the bad and ugly.  I want to be able to show my true self to the world, to share that side of my life with my family and friends - but instead I feel like I live a double life full of smiles on the outside and emotional turmoil on the inside. I know that simply my presence at a social event makes people uncomfortable...and that is not acceptance.

It has begun...

I wake up each morning worried that I started bleeding while asleep, that somehow I have started miscarrying...and each morning, nothing.  Today is a week since my HCG's started dropping and the lack of, shall I say 'progression' makes me have a glimmer of hope.

Allow me to backtrack. Almost three weeks ago, I took yet another pregnancy test.  The line was so faint that I wasn't sure whether I was seeing things or not.  A blood test confirmed that we were indeed pregnant with and HCG of 14.  Initially, the number seemed low, but I realized that I was testing two days early. Over the next week, my numbers doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled.  We were thrilled, but there was that nagging feeling, that worry that things weren't going as well as they seemed.  You see, since the moment we tested, I had started spotting - some days slightly, some days a bit more. My doctor kept assuring me that this is normal. We tested my progesterone and it was fairly low, so we increased the progesterone suppositories twice, then finally moved to progesterone oil injections.  I was scared, as I had always heard how painful they were, but after gleening some tricks online, it turned out that they were painless - I would ice my buttock area while Freddie would run the syringe under hot water to dissolve the oil a little bit prior to injecting me.

On Thursday of last week, the spotting stopped. I was elated. I had been praying daily at naptime -I had pages and pages of prayers printed out to St. Catharine of Siena, St. Gerard Majella, St.Raymond Nonatus and of course our Mother, Mary.  I begged, I pleaded, I asked all our babies to stand before the throne of our Lord and beg for Him to intercede on our behalf and to allow this child to LIVE!  But later that day, the doctor's office called that my hcg levels dropped.  They thought that perhaps, since I had 5 follicles ready at ovulation time, that maybe we were dealing with a vanishing twin - this news was difficult. I hated the thought that one child had passed, but it gave me hope that perhaps this pregnancy wasn't over.  Just thinking that we might have a child whose twin didn't make it brought me to tears...but within another two days it was clear that the HCG was continuing to drop.  It was obvious that this baby would join his/her sibling in heaven.  It does bring me comfort that this child will not be alone, but that rather this baby will be surrounded by siblings - but it also reminds me that Sophie's siblings are not here and that she is still alone.  Then I started waiting - waiting for the miscarriage to start, and this morning the spotting started, then stopped.  Again, a glimmer of hope ignited in my heart, but it was quickly quashed when the HCG numbers revealed a continuing decline.

All week, I know I've been in denial.  I've been pushing off the emotions, not dealing with them. This morning, I broke down.  Now that 'it' has started, the loss is real.  I don't understand any of this - I've been a 'good girl' all my life, I never did drugs, I never smoked, I never drank, I didn't have sex till after marriage, I took care of my elders, I supported my family...I did all the 'right' things - my only crime is getting married in my 30's.  I know its common to lose a baby, but NINE???  How much more can my heart take?  After Asia, we had decided that we would only do this for a few more months and now as our deadline approaches, I truly fear that we may not be successful in having another child.  It's hard for me to even write that...we may fail.  I keep wanting to try because I know how happy and excited we are each time we learn of a new pregnancy, but I also know that Freddie is ready to quit as his heart can't take more pain and it kills him to see me go through this time after time after time.

We talk about all our babies and read "Someone came before you" and "We had an angel instead" at bedtime.  Sophie gets sad that her siblings aren't here, she says she misses them and they miss her. Last month, Sophie kept asking if Asia would come to her birthday party and each time I cried as I had to answer that we would love for her to come and that Asia would love to come, but she's in Heaven.  Sophie seems to think that her siblings live in another home nearby and that if only we tried hard enough, we could go see them -oh, how I wish that were true!

It took me over 6 months to get back to God after Asia's death. I wasn't mad at Him, I didn't think it was His fault - I just didn't feel heard. I had prayed, I had begged, I had cried out to Him asking for healing, asking for her to take a breath, but she didn't.  I know He was there for me, but I wasn't ready to talk.  Now, as our relationship is still 'new', another loss. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling.  I know God can do anything and I know God could grant this child life - so why not?  Is it a case that evil has caused the loss of our baby, or maybe a simple genetic mismatch on our human part? But in either case, God can heal that, right?  So is He choosing not to intervene? I know that this world is temporary and that our aim is eternal life with Him, so perhaps I should be grateful that my children are spared the pains of this world  - but my religion also doesn't assure me that my children get to Heaven - but I hope they do.  I read something today that said something along the lines that my pain allows my children to advance to eternal life - maybe that makes the pain worth it?  But I'm still left with the fact that Sophie is still alone in this world - like I was, an only child.  I worry what this will mean for her growing up, knowing that all her siblings perished - will she feel pressured to succeed? To make us proud? To live for all of them?

I'm just tired of adding to our memorial wall.  I'm tired of carrying all these little souls in my heart, never speaking their names in public.  I'm tired of grieving in silence, when the house is quiet and everyone is sleeping. I'm tired of expecting each pregnancy to end exactly this way, in another loss.  I'm tired of feeling like a pessimist...I'm just tired.  So tonight, as I sit here writing at 3am, I'm starting to miscarry our 10th child [our 9th loss].  I have a heavy heart and empty arms.  All I have to show, to prove that this little one was here is a backside sore from injections [its actually very tender now and itchy!] and a case of needles upstairs with the remainder of progesterone oil - there is no ultrasound this time, no tangible proof, just a few photos where we are the only ones who know that I am pregnant at the time.  We still need to name this child, but nothing seems to be appropriate, nothing seems to 'fit'.  Nothing about any of this seems to 'fit'...it's like an out of body experience, a bad movie that I'm watching, because this CAN'T be happening to us!!

A quick update...

I haven't written in a long time - I wish I had the desire, but I simply didn't.  Life has been difficult at best the last little while and while feeling like crap, the last thing I want to do is relive it in writing.  But in the hope of explaining what's been going on, I'll try to do a quick recap.

We did go see a new fertility doctor in another city.  We drove 2 hours to see him, then waited for 4 hours to be seen by him.  Without any arguing, he was willing to do all tests on all antibodies and syndromes - things that our current doctor had refused to do.  We were, in fact, told that unless we opted to do IUI or IVF, that it was a waste of her time to investigate further.  This is the same woman who had been pushing us to do ART, when I made it clear that as a Catholic, this was not an option for me....but I digress.  Anyway, all the tests came back normal on Freddie and I.  The only thing that showed, was that at 40, my ovarian reserve is below average - no shocker there.  He offered us injectable meds, which again were previously denied [they were only available to IUI patients] and due to the Holidays, we drove 4 hours round trip for simply monitoring.  

Christmas was difficult.  Last year, we had announced to everyone that we were expecting Asia.  This year we should have had a 4 month old to celebrate with, but instead, I was hugging a box of her ashes.  I had made memorial ornaments for her and for our other angels - we had clear hearts that were filled with a white feather that we gave to all grandparents as a memorial to Asia - none of them were emotional.  My in-laws even had to read it twice, as it hadn't sunk in who "Asia" was...that was heartbreaking.  The last ornament was for us, listing all the names of our 'chemical pregnancies', those sweet babies who left too soon, and whose names we kept to ourselves.

In January, I had a government hearing for disability.  I had applied for disability benefits through our government 5 years ago and kept getting denied.  I know it was because of my 'young' age.  My legal rep felt comfortable that we'd win - but we know its a hard road.  To make a long story short, I won.  I was approved and deemed 'disabled' at the federal level - finally!  Now my work disability insurer will leave me alone - my income is secure.  Although I feel horrible that there are so many things I can't do, I'm happy that this is finally settled and over.  The harassing phone calls have stopped - although now the insurer keeps calling asking when they get their reimbursement cheque.  I still miss work, miss feeling like a productive member of society - miss feeling like I matter and am making a difference - but I'm not sure if I'll ever get that feeling back.

Following the hearing, I had a massive pain flare - I couldn't move for weeks. Apparently, this is common, as you push yourself to get through the disability hearing and all that stress affects your pain.  I was so scared of how much I hurt - if I hurt this much now, what am I going to do when I get older??  I finally broke down and called my pain specialist. I was brought in for a lidocaine infusion, which has helped in the past, but this time did nothing. I felt a tiny bit better immediately afterwards, but by that night I was hurting again.  I was also prescribed Ketamine tablets, which took several days to start working.  The ketamine finally helped - I had gone for weeks in agony.  We had to stop TTC as ketamine is not safe in pregnancy, and frankly taking a month off was really good - we felt human again with no stress, no timed intercourse, just a normal couple again.

March was tough -it was Sammy's 4th due date, Freddie's birthday, Asia's 1st angelverary and Sophie's 3rd Birthday.  So it was a rollercoaster ride, with sadness followed by joy, and repeat.

And here we are in April.  After doing three rounds using the Puregon pen, I was switched to Menopur.  This was our first round of Menopur and I knew it was going to be a success, as at the first ultrasound I had 6 possible follicles - more than I had had in a long time.  And I was right - I sit here pregnant as I write... but its all coming to an end.  My HCG levels are dropping and I've been waiting for 4 days to start miscarrying our 10th child - our 9th loss.  I can't write more now...not sure what to say. I'm numb, I'm angry, I'm defeated.

Here today, possibly gone tomorrow

Today, is a good day.  Or at least I'm trying to think of it that way.  You see, I'm pregnant...again.  This is our EIGHT baby.  And although my HCG's are 40% higher than last month, the overall number is still so low, that technically, the clinic is calling this a 'chemical pregnancy' and that the result is a 'chemical negative'.  I am, once again, expected to miscarry this sweet child within the next few days.

I'm a wreck - again. I just can't believe we are going through this...again. Guess its a good thing we go see that other fertility specialist next month, for a second opinion.  I just can't believe it....again.  I don't know how many more times I can do this.  I try not to think about it, because honestly my head starts swimming, I get hot and I feel like literally the top of my head will explode and steam will come out.  I try not to think about it so I don't break down completely, but sometimes [like now] I feel awfully close...I'm not ready to give up yet, but I just feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place. I have no choices here...I don't know if I can just give up on our dream of a family.

I'm trying to focus on today, to enjoy what little time I have left with this baby, but I can't seem to stop thinking about the impending loss. I can't process all of this...Lord, please help me deal with all these losses.